


Folsom Bottom Blues

by Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Fighting, Folsom Prison Blues, Former prostitute!Dean, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Instances of non con, Kissing, Loose attachment to canon events, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Sex, Starts at FPB and goes through Lazarus Rising, Wincest - Freeform, dark pasts, originally written as rp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8215135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag/pseuds/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag
Summary: "Sam, just because these people are in jail doesn't mean they deserve to die." "Dean, does it ever bother you how well you fit in around here?"An idea I had after watching this episode. Dean's definitely been to jail before, for solicitation. And while at Green river he runs into an old customer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slight canon alteration, Sam left for Stanford soon after his 17th birthday and was gone for almost 4 years.

Sam sniffed the limp noodles on his plate with a frown.

 _Damn it, how did he ever let Dean convince him that getting locked up in Green River Detention Center was a_ good _idea!? This was crazy. Down right insanity actually. Why the hell were they even still here!?_

"You know, this chicken isn't half bad." Dean chuckled through a mouthful of food, like always.

"Great. Have mine." Sam grumbled, pushing his plate away with disgust.

Dean shrugged and stabbed his fork into the amorphous lump of beige on Sam's tray, transferring it to his own plate.

"Alright. So let's go over this again Dean," Sam sighed, trying not to get sick at the display, "Moody is spirit subject #1 right?"

"Yeah, dude's a psycho killer extraordinaire. Satanism, ritual murder. Died in jail."

"And- you're sure it's him?" Sam asked wearily.

Dean nodded, "Pretty sure."

"Yeah well given our circumstances I'm gonna need a little more than pretty sure Dean." Sam scoffed.

"Ok. _Really_ pretty sure." Dean smirked, and Sam just shot him a glare. Fucking smart ass.

"Listen Sam. It's gotta be him. I'll talk with some of the guys in the yard tomorrow to make sure ok?"

Sam's face scrunched at Dean's word choice before he let out a laugh of disbelief.

" _The yard_? Dean, does it ever bother you just how well you fit in here?"

"No. Not really no." Dean lied, pushing away his tray, "I'm done."

-*-

Dean's jaw clenched and he suddenly lost his appetite. Of _course_ he fit in well here. He had been arrested six times in his youth for solicitation, but Sam didn't need to know about that. Hell, that was something Dean would take to the fucking grave. How do you even begin to explain to your brother that you used to hustle just so you could eat?

Dean excused himself from the table, trying to put as much distance between him and Sam as possible. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable after Sammy's little jab, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Or punch something.

 

Dean faintly heard two bodies colliding behind him before he heard Sam stutter out a guilty "I'm sorry!"

"Watch where you're going," another inmate threatened gruffly, and Dean momentarily forgot everything, going into protective brother mode instantly.

"Hey! He said he was sorry," Dean snapped, walking over and putting himself in front of his brother. That way if it came to blows, the dude hit him.

"You talking to me-" The guy started but trailed off. Dean thought for a second he might of actually scared the guy, until the older man's frown twisted into a sickening smile.

"Little Deany Winchester." The man purred. "All grown up I see. But still just as pretty."

Dean's heart stopped.

"L-Lucas," his voice just barely above a whisper.

"Aw, you here that boys? He remembers me!" Lucas laughed loudly, and Dean's eyes darted to all the other 'interested eyes' leering in his direction.

"Dean? What's he talking about?" He was sure he heard Sam say, but it was hard to really hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears.

Lucas turned his attention back to Dean and raised his hand, dragging his nails down Dean's face gently, like one would do to a lover. The action got him a swift right hook to the jaw, followed by a knee to the groin from the older Winchester.

"Dean!"

But Dean kept punching, until three different guards burst in and broke the two apart.

"You're dead you little bitch! You hear me!" Lucas roared, spitting the blood from his bleeding mouth in Dean's direction. A few drops landed on his jumpsuit, but most of it got on Deacon's uniform.

"Solitary! For two weeks," Deacon growled, nodding at the guards to take the heavier man away. Deacon had Dean's hands pulled behind his back, playing the part ever so well.

"What's your name boy?"

"Winchester..."

"Well, Winchester," he sneered, "not a good start. Solitary for you too."

Sam watched in confusion and horror as Dean and Lucas were dragged off to solitary. What the hell just happened!?

"Dean! Let him go damn it! He was defending himself!" Sam screamed.

"Oh, and who's this? Your fucking pimp?" Lucas howled, goading on several others in the mess hall. "You're selling used goods kid! This piece of trash ain't worth shit!"

Dean yanked free of Deacon long enough to lunge at Lucas, getting in one more good punch to the nose before one of the other guards tazed him.

Deacon looked at the other guard in fury and shoved him hard. "What the hell did you do that for!?"

"He had to be detained boss! I was just-"

"You don't lift a _finger_ unless I give the order, do you understand!?" He screamed, and the other guard wilted, nodding firmly.

"Y-Yes sir."

"Take Lucas to solitary. Now I have to make sure you didn't stop Winchester's heart. Kid." Deacon motioned to Sam,  "Come help me carry him."

Sam picked up his limp brother and followed Deacon to the infirmary.

-*-

Sam set Dean on the medical cot and checked him over, noticing a few areas where blood continued to pour out.

"Dean? Do you need stiches?" He asked worriedly.

"Nah, nah I'm fine." Dean lied, "he only got one good hit in. Thanks Deacon."

"No problem kid. I'm gonna go fetch you a doctor."

Dean tried to sit up, but a searing pain in his back had him falling to the floor like a limp noodle. "Ah! But that taser hurt like a bitch! Damn it!"

Sam helped Dean up, almost cradling him to his chest. "Shit Dean," He said and hugged him tightly, "You scared me, why'd you let him get to you?"

"He's just caught me off guard Sam, that's all." Dean said, letting Sam hug him. Sam probably needed the comfort more than Dean did. "I'm fine. I've always been fine. And I'll always be fine so don't worry about it."

"Bullshit." Sam growled, and Dean's eyes snapped up to meet a threatening gaze.

"Dean, I know when you're lying to me. Now, why does he know you? And more importantly, why do you know him? Is he a hunter? Is he one of dads friends?"

 _Yeah, if only_ , Dean thought.

"Just drop it Sammy."

"Drop it!?" Sam screeched, and it hurt Dean's ears. He hated when people yelled. "How do you expect me to drop it!? He _hit_ you! Now tell me how you know him!"

"No, Sam." Dean mumbled, starting to get angry now.

"Dean! What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me! Your own brother!? What the hell is going-"

"I know him because I used to fuck him! There! You happy!?" Dean screamed, eyes welling with tears. He yanked himself free of Sam's arms, even if it made the burn on his back act back up.

"You used to-" Sam trailed off, his face bunching up in disgust. "Dean... If you're gay that's one thing. I don't really care about that. But- I guess I didn't really see him as your type..."

"For _money_ you idiot!" Dean bit out, physically sick to his stomach thinking about Lucas naked again.

Sam was quiet after that, and Dean just _knew_ he was piecing it all together.

"Get out." He ordered, crawling into the infirmary bed with what little strength he had left.

"Dean!" 

"I SAID GET OUT!" He shouted, and Deacon was back with the doctor, alarmed at the shouting.

Sam refused to leave. Not until they talked this shit out, and until he knew for sure Dean was ok.

He grabbed the closest chair and pulled it up beside his brother's bed.

"Dean...I don't-I'm not mad at you. And I don't think of you any different ok? I know you did what you had to," He said quietly.

"You don't know shit ok!?" Dean barked, slumping in the bed and trying to control his trembling. "You know why? Because you left us. Left me. I was supposed to watch you Sam, and when dad came back and saw you weren't there..."

Dean trailed off, remembering the beating that left him hauled up in bed for nearly a month.

"You got to go enjoy cushy California while I was here. Hunting, doing _your_ job. The one you were born to do."

Sam frowned. "Neither of us were _born_ to do it Dean! Dad was leading us down a path we couldn't come back from. He was going to get us killed." Sam said and looked to Dean. "You could have come with me, gotten a real job and been happy! Did you not trust me?"

"Yes I trusted you damn it! I tried so hard to follow you. But I had no idea where the hell you were! And it's not like you ever called me! I tried to save up to come find you, I would do literally anything for you Sammy. Hell, I have!"

"You could have come with me from the start! Why didn't you!" He asked accusingly.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"Because you didn't tell me you were leaving Sam! You just took off! It took me months to track you down! And even then, when I saw how happy you were, with Jess, I couldn't take you away. N-No matter how bad I wanted to."

Dean wrapped his arms around himself and began to regress back into his mind. His head started to pound and his hands began to shake.

"W-Why did you leave me Sammy? I-I thought we were brothers. Didn't you want me?" He whimpered, tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes.

"I'll told you to come with me Dean. I put it all in a letter in your boots... I left in the morning because I was going to get us an apartment."

"Y-You did?" Dean blinked, not remembering seeing any letter. But then it all made sense. Why dad was so mad. Why he beat Dean worse than he ever had before. John knew. Knew both of his kids were going to leave him for a better life. One they deserved.

Tears began to fall from Dean's eyes. He shrunk further into the bed and pulled the covers close to his neck. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget everything. Strong arms came up behind him and held him tight.

"You never got the letter... Did you?" Sam asked, rubbing his back like he did when they were kids.

Dean shook his head slowly, still shivering despite the warm room.

Sam cradled Dean close. "Why don't you pull out of the investigation? I'll hunt the ghost myself. You check into a good hotel, get away from this place for a while." He offered and rubbed Dean's back.

"No way. I'm not pulling out of this." Dean said, intent on keeping his promise to Deacon. "It'll- I'll be ok. Maybe I can get intell from Lucas..."

Dean swallowed hard. He knew information like that would come at a price. He had won a decent amount of smokes over the past day, but he had a feeling that wasn't what the older man wanted.

"Absolutely not. You're not doing what I think you're gonna do. We don't have to do it that way." He said and looked to Dean, "We've shaken down plenty of guys without resorting to... That."

"It'll work Sam. And we need information." Dean said sternly. "It's not like I'm saving myself for anyone..."

"You're worth more than a quick fuck Dean. You did what you had to, to survive, but now you don't have to. We'll find a way." Sam turned to Deacon, not realizing he was still holding Dean's hand. "What's this guy in for? Can we bribe him with drugs or booze?"

Deacon's face began to pale, "Uh, he's in for exploitation of a minor. Well, several. They found a decent amount of child and teen pornography on his home computer."

Dean felt nauseous. It all made sense though. Dean was weeks away from 21 at the time, but he could of easily passed for 17. He still didn't have any facial hair at 26.

"I'll talk to Lucas Sam, we'll find this ghost, hunt it down and forget any of this shit ever happened."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit heated, Dean confesses even more than he bargained for. Sam isn't sure how to feel about it.

Even with the case solved, and that frigid bitch fried, Dean was feeling even lower than before. Having solved the case and escaping a life-long prison sentence, yet again, should of made him happy but instead it just made him miserable.

Maybe it had to do with the mile-wide space of awkwardness between him and Sam after his 'confession.'

Since then, the two barely said two words to each other. But that was definitely Dean's fault. Anytime Sam would say anything, Dean would jump down his throat.

Dean's drinking habit began to increase as well as his notorious knack for putting himself in the way of danger, much like tonight. Turns out, getting really hammered and then turning down the strongest, and arguably hottest, guy in the bar had consequences. Pride was something these guys thrived on, and if you did anything to threaten that, well you ended up here, shoved up against a brick wall with blunt teeth at your neck and hands yanking down your jeans.

"You stupid little bitch! Who do you think you are?" The man hissed, hands everywhere, getting ready for what was to come.

Dean struggled, and had he not been so drunk, he could of easily overthrown the man. But he was drunk, and drugged. Damn it, how could he of let his guard down like that! Maybe it was because he hadn't been touched in almost a year. Or the fact that the guy was incredibly charming. Or because he looked a hell of a lot like Sammy. No. Had to be the first two. He didn't like Sam. Not like that at least...

He could feel long hair draping across his the back of his neck, and in his inebriated state, he allowed himself to fall into a fantasy. He and Sam were finally together, the way Dean had wanted for years.

Sam was he one pushing him against the wall in his fantasy. Sam was kissing down his neck in a hurried pace to get Dean undressed. Dean's eyes fluttered in pleasure and a soft moan broke past his lips.

"I knew you'd come around. Most people just need a little... convincing." His attacker chuckled, pulling Dean's jeans down in one fast movement.

-*-

Sam had followed Dean to the sleazy bar. It had taken him quite a lot longer to get there on foot, but he amazingly made it just in time.

Sam watched in horror as someone had Dean pinned to the brick, intent on having their way with Dean.

Not if Sam could help it.

"HEY!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!!" Sam snarled, yanking the stranger off him and punching him so hard he lost consciousness.

Dean looked up at Sammy bewildered, a lazy grin on his face.

"Sam!" He slurred, nearly tripping over his pants. "Heyy, what are you doing here?" He giggled, happy to actually see his Sam.

"Dean? Hey, what did you have? Oh god, I think you're drugged. We gotta get you to a hospital."

"No- no doctors." Dean shouted, shoving himself off Sam and stumbling back into the wall. "They- they stick me with things! Fuck them!"

Sam sighed and moved closer again, helping Dean put back on his jeans before he drug him to the car.

Dean took the moment of closeness to his advantage, wrapping his arms around his brother's broad shoulders and burying his face in his long neck.

"Mmm, you smell nice Sammy. Got a date or something? Who is she? She's not a demon or nothing right? I mean- I know your type."

"Not a demon Dean, come on in the car-" he said and hoisted Dean into the backseat. Next thing he knew, he was on top of Dean, their foreheads touching.

Easy Dean, you're drugged. Let's get you home and in bed ok? I'll drive us."

But Dean just giggled, slipping his hand under Sam's jacket and letting it rest on his hip.

"Don't wanna. I like this better." Dean smiled, nuzzling into Sam's neck. "Mmm, never done it in Baby before. But I'll make an exception for you."

Dean held Sam's hips tightly and began kissing down his neck. His lips were soft and warm, but the panic that went off in his brain had him nearly whiting out. And when Dean let out a soft groan, Sam jerked away.

"Aw, where you going?" Dean asked, flopping back against the seats as Sam exited the car. He was disappointed, but too stoned for the situation to really register. He'd be devistated in the morning.

"Sammy, don't leave. I'm sorry-"

But Sam was already gone, pacing around the outside of the car, shaking his head.

Dean curled up against the farthest closed door and just held himself, like he always did after something bad happened. It was the only thing that comforted him anymore.

When Sam came back, Dean couldn't look at him.

"Why did you do that?" He asked quietly. It wasn't judgmental, or mean spirited, he just didn't know what to do.

"Forget it Sam. I'm drunk." Dean bit out, transitioning into a defensive stance. He just wanted to be home. Drinking until he couldn't remember anything.

"Hey, I'm not mad." Sam reached out for his brother's hand. "You just-startled me a little." He admitted. "Do you really like me? Like that I mean?"

"Fuck off Sam." Dean growled, cramming himself against the door just to get away from Sam. "I don't need your condescension right now, okay? Take us back to the hotel."

He didn't want to look at Sam. He didn't even want to talk to him. All he wanted was to sleep, pretend this whole night never happened.

Sam frowned. "I'm not driving anywhere, not yet. Did you know it was me when you kissed me? Yes or no?"

"I'm not answering that question." Dean said stubbornly, pushing the car door open. "I'm walking back," he decided, taking a few steps before the drugs caused a total body shut down and he collapsed into the loose dirt.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Dean woke up a little over 12 hours later. When he did, he wished he hadn't. Everything hurt, and Dean put together most of what happened last night. That asshole at the bar must of roofied him. It wasn't the first time it had happened to him, but by now, he should of known better, been more vigilant. But his mind was other places. Mostly on Sam. And speaking of Sam...

Dean looked down just enough to notice a hand on his chest. He had a feeling it was Sam's, but his head hurt too much to turn it to double check.

He assumed it was Sam and set his own hand over his brothers, soaking as much physicality as he could before Sam pulled away. It wasn't the first time they had laid like this, but it had been years, and back in a time where Dean's feelings for Sam were completely platonic.

He blamed his feelings for Sam on his dad. Dean's sense of right and wrong had been so completely warped by John, the thought of being with Sam didn't phase him at all. But he doubted Sam would ever see it that way.

Sam felt Dean stir against him.

"Dean?" He asked, yawning, "Everything ok?"

"Yeah Sammy, I'm alright." Dean lied, wincing when the slightest movement caused him tremendous agony.

"We don't have any pain meds do we? And maybe some water?"

"I'll get you some-" Sam said. He found some Advil and Gatorade and handed it to Dean, placing the pills directly in his mouth.

Dean swallowed the pills along with half the bottle of Gatorade. He wasn't sure when they bought that, but he was greatful that Sam took better care of his body than Dean ever did of his.

"Did you get a good look at the guy from the bar?" Dean asked, assuming Sam must of found him and brought him home. He highly doubted he could of made it here on his own. "I want to kick that son of a bitches ass."

Sam turned his cheek to show the black eye. "Took care of him Dean." He said with a small chuckle, "Kicked him into the river."

He put his hand to Dean's forhead. "How are you feeling? Do you have a migraine?"

"Yeah. Man, I really fucking hate getting roofied." He grumbled under his breath, letting Sam fuss over him for another couple of minutes. It felt nice to be cared for. To feel worthy of attention.

"You hate- Dean! How many times did this happen to you?" Sam asked, knowing the answer couldn't be good unless it was "never."

"I lost count. It's been the first time in years though." Dean said, groaning as his aching muscles were massaged by strong hands. Geez, his back was crap.

Sam worked the muscles harder, almost straddling Dean while he worked. "Dean...I didn't know. I'm sorry," He said knowing it wouldn't fix what happened. "Do you know any of the guys?"

"No. Couple of nameless faces from years ago. Plus, I'm sure the names they gave me where bull. I mean, if you're going to fuck a minor, you really think you'd use your real name? No way."

"A minor-? Dean why were you even at the bars, who let you drink?" Sam shouted, he was more than upset that Dean had purposely put himself in these situations.

"Bar guys pay better. Besides, I've always looked older than I am. And blowing the bartender does have its advantages. Why are you hounding me about this anyway? It was forever ago. It's not like I do it now."

"Do it- Dean! You got roofied last night! You know better than to leave your drink out!"

Sam was furious now. He flipped Dean around and gripped his arms tight, surely leaving bruises. "Unless, unless you wanted it to happen. To punish yourself for what you said at the prison! That's it, isn't it Dean!"

Dean was frozen. Could Sam really think that? That Dean asked for this shit to happen?

"Dean!" Sam growled at him. "You kissed me last night, remember? Oh wait, that's right you don't. Damn it Dean! This is what those drugs do! They make you do stupid shit! Like try to dry hump your brother. Remember that? Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?!"

Dean kicked Sam off him in a moment of panic and made for the bathroom, barely having enough time to lock it before the contents of his stomach reached his throat.

How could he have done that? How could he of _let_ himself do that. To Sam he was a worthless, disgusting freak, and that's all that there was to it. He deserved to go to hell. People like him shouldn't exist in this world.

Dean puked for a solid half hour, guilt and horror racking his body and draining him of all his energy. It wasn't long until he passed out again, this time from dehydration.

* * *

Dean slept through the next 6 hours. The drugs were still weaning themselves out of his system, and the events of last night and this morning left him completely drained.

He was awoken by the loud slamming of a door, and the sound of some furniture being knocked over. Sam was probably home. And he sounded mad. Rightfully so, seeing as Dean decided to force himself on Sam in his impaired state.

Why did he think someone like _Sam_ could ever like someone like Dean. Sam was _perfect_. He was smart, beautiful, strong, tall, and just Sam. He was everyone's dream guy. Where as Dean was so insignificant, it didn't even make sense that they shared any DNA.

_I can't even believe we're related..._

Sam's disapproving voice echoed through his head. Although it wasn't his Sam that said it, but the Djinns version, it still hurt like hell, and was starting to look like a possibility in his own world.

Dean shrunk into himself, curling his limbs close and resting against the door again. A few tears managed to escape without his permission, but it was ok, no one was here to see them.

Now that he had more time to reflect, this mornings conversation rolled around in his head. More specifically, what Sam had accused him of.

What _was_ wrong with him? Probably a lot seeing as he was in love with his baby brother. But the one thing Dean couldn't get over was Sam thinking he _wanted_ that guy to rape him. Dean didn't ask for the life he was cursed with, and if he didn't need to eat at least twice a week, he never would of started hustling in the first place. But with one less person to help hustle pool and John taking majority of his earnings every week, he barely had enough live. $50 wasn't enough for a hotel room, so he spent a lot of nights on the streets. Or in the beds of the guys who fucked him.

-*-

Sam had thrown their stuff around the room, half packing his in a frustrated rage. He was furious with Dean, but as he lugged his suitcase he paused, making an executive decision. He packed Dean’s suitcase aswell, shoving it in the trunk of the Impala.

When he returned to the room, he knocked sharply on the door.

"Dean?" He called, his voice stern. "Dean you are going to get checked out and get some help with this. Either you can go voluntarily or I will take you in by force. It's for the best."

Dean wilted even further against the bathtub. He was hurt his brother thought he needed psychiatric help, but maybe it was a good idea. At least that way he wouldn't be near Sam. He wouldn't have to worry about doing something stupid again and damaging their already fragile relationship.

He moved to unlock the door and settled back against the tub, letting Sam shove it open. In that following moment, Dean had gone completely numb, mentally and physically. It was a defense mechanism he developed when he was young and stuck with him every since. He hardly registered Sam dragging him into the Impala and tossing him in the backseat.

The drive to the hospital was long, and Sam attempted to talk to him the entire ride. It was likely more hateful and disgusted remarks, but it all sounded muffled to Deans numb ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry so so sorry  
> This is another angsty chapter  
> I'm hoping the next one will be happy, it's just been a tough week
> 
> **updated  
> I want the next chapter to take place in/after hell so I added a bit to the bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of suicide attempts

Dean hadn't spoken a single word since his admittance to Mercy Psychiatric Hospital a little under 4 weeks ago. Several people tried to talk to him over the course of four weeks, nurses, doctors, patients. They attempted numerous times to get him to speak up in group, but he stayed quieter than the dead. He had no reason to talk, no reason to live. Sam was gone, even after Dean sold his soul for him, and he wasn't coming back.

Dean's destructive behavior had taken a turn for the worst as well. He had spent most of his time these days handcuffed to a bed due to his numerous suicide attempts.

The orderlies were on strict  orders to make sure Dean was actually swallowing his daily pain medication, not hiding it to take all at once.

All sharp and plastic objects had been removed from his room, leaving him in a very plain, soft, white room with nothing to do but stare at the wall. 

After Dean’s 6th suicide attempt with a piece of folded paper, his doctor instructed all available staff to rotate through 15 minute check ups.

It was Hell the first week, but by week two, Dean had completely checked out. Every day passed by in a blur. He had no aspect of how much time had passed or how many days he had been here. He hoped it came to an end soon though, living without Sam was worse than death.

-*-

Sam's knee bounced nervously as he waited for the doctor to bring out Dean. It had only been a week since he last checked in, but things had seemed to go from bad to worse. Dean made another attempt at ending his life, punched out an orderly, and refused to eat. He had already lost 15 lbs, and if he kept refusing to eat, they'd have no choice but to hook him up to a feeding tube.

The doctor came into the room just then, a very pale, thin, and lost version of his brother in the wheelchair he was pushing.

Dean didn't even seem to acknowledge where he was, or that Sam was there. It was frightening, like looking into an empty vessel.

"H-Hey Dean." Sam said, and was met with absolute silence. "Dean? They said you've refused to eat."

Nothing.

Sam looked down and noticed the bandages around Dean's right hand. "Did you do this to yourself?" He asked and gently looked it over. The knuckles were more than likely bruised, he’s been on the other side of Dean’s powerful punches more than once. 

Sam sighed deeply and tried to stroke Dean's elbow lovingly, hoping to get a reaction.

"Did you get Max as an orderly? Joe knows him and he knows hunter stuff." 

That caused a reaction. A small one, but it was something. Just a couple of fingers on Dean's good hand twitching.

Sam saw the twitch and jumped on it. He had to bring his Dean back. This-this wasn't Dean, this was a shell. He looked...sunken in. Like he was just moments away from collapsing in on himself.

"You know I’m not mad at you right? And these people are just here to help?"

Dean's eyes snapped to Sam's immediately, and his expressionless face twisted into a sneer.

"Coulda fooled me," He whispered, his voice harsh and raspy from under use.

"You're not here to rot Dean. This isn't punishment. It's so they can help you get past-get to the root of why you feel like... You want me." Sam tried, not wanting to fight, but feeling one coming on nevertheless. "Dean its not _normal_ to want that. You have to see that."

"Fighting monsters ain't normal either Sam. Or having a dad who beat the hell out of you just because. Nothing in our life has ever been _normal_ Sam. Being here has showed me one thing though."

"Yeah? What's that?" Sam asked hopefully.

"We were never brothers." 

Sam felt the air leave his lungs, "Dean-"

"You don't put people you give a damn about in these types of places. Especially not family."

“Dean, you’re sick! I had to-“ Sam backpeddled, this was not going the way he wanted it to.

Dean let out a sigh, pulling his hand from Sam’s, "No Sam, I'm not. I'm damaged, probably beyond repair. But I'm your family, the only one you’ve ever had. I'm the only person in the world who can literally say I'd die for you. I've given you everything and never asked for anything in return. Maybe kissing you was crossing a line, but I sure as Hell didn't deserve this."

Sam was crying now, tears staining his cheeks. "Dean, please,” He sniffled, “I'm sorry, listen, we'll take you home, this obviously isn't helping you. Maybe you just need-"

"No." Dean interrupted.  

"W-What?" Sam was bewildered. Now Dean didn't want to leave?

"I'm going to spend my last few months here, and then I'll be in Hell, where we both know I belong."

* * *

Ending things with Sam gave Dean a sense of closure that he desperately needed. Dean fell back into silence once Sam left, but his appetite returned and his self-destructive tendencies slowed, at least for the time being.

After another two weeks at the hospital, and a desperate need for bed space, they deemed Dean healthy enough and all but kicked him to the curb.

He didn't have much on him, just a little under twenty bucks and two pairs of clothes. It would be enough until he got back on his feet.

Dean pulled his jacket over his arms, happy to be back in his own clothes. He hadn't bothered to call Sam after his release. He hoped the hospital at least waited to call Sam until he was a few towns over.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk east of the hospital until he couldn't see it anymore. He remembered seeing a gas station on his way here and he was in desperate need of a drink. Maybe even a smoke at this point. What's it matter anyway, He'd be dead in 5 months, not long enough to reap the destruction of lung cancer.

He paid the cashier the last of his cash and bought a two six packs and a pack of Blacks cigars. He walked another mile or so until he found a secluded area off the road. Last thing he needed was to be arrested for public intoxication.

Most of the first six pack was gone in thirty minutes and Dean was reveling in the familiar buzz. It was honestly the best he'd felt in months. He just wished it could stay this way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of back story, filler, and drama and then a very happy and needed reunion for our boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ:  
> We are now several months later. Dean has been attacked by the hellhounds and drug into the pits of hell. Sam and Dean haven't spoken since the incident at the hospital.

Dean's death was slow, bloody, horrifying, and worst of all, lonely. His first thought when he heard the dogs barking and his last thought as he took his final breaths were the same, _Sam_.

Was Sam ok? Was he still alive? Could Sam ever forgive him for being so broken? Now that he was dead, would things get better for Sam? Would Sam even remember him? Would he even care?

* * *

**-7 months later-**

Sam wiped the sweat off his brow with a sigh. He never realized how much work went into Baby. How much maintenance and buffing Dean did _everyday_ to keep her in top shape. He had found spare parts at Bobby's, intent on keeping her perfect for Dean when he came back.  But as months went by, and the ever approaching Hell due date crept closer, Sam realized Dean wasn’t coming back.

He worked diligently on Baby for a month, until the little reminders of Dean became too much. 

His fingerprints on the side mirror that Sam couldn't bring himself to clean, to torn grease rags stuffed into the side panel of the passenger door. Bobby had even found their road map flagged with Dean's scribbles, a star if the town had a place that served pie. Sam always kept it folded in the glove box that usually pressed against his knees.

But the one that hurt the most was found in the trunk, buried under Dean's arsenal. It was Dean's old leather jacket, the one he bought for himself as an 18th birthday present.

Sam had stolen it right before Dean and John went on a week long hunting trip. It was the week of midterms for Sam, and he begged his dad to let him stay behind and study.

It was the jacket he cried into when he missed Dean, when the thrum of neon kept him awake and the only company was the whurr of the broken ice machine from across the parking lot.

It was the jacket he curled up in one night, and found his sobs turned to moans as he invisioned Dean holding him, kissing him, and telling him how much he missed him. And the same jacket that Sam hid under his mattress in shame when he realized he couldn't quite get the stain out.

Finally, it was the jacket his father discovered when Dean went to get dinner upon their return.

The look on John's face was nothing but blinding rage and utter disgust. Sam cowered in fear as his father slapped and beat him black and blue. He was sick, wrong in the head, and he cried the entire time it took Father Blanchard to get there. He screamed for forgiveness as the old truck drove away, taking him from his father, away from Dean, without even the chance to say goodbye.

It was two months before he was even allowed a phone call. Dad had sent him to Father Blanchard's Seminary to finish his junior year.

The nuns had turned his back blue with the ruler in an effort to purge him of his "dark, unclean thoughts of his brother."

They told him over and over how his father was trying to save him, trying to keep him from burning in the pits of Hell, and it was only a matter of time before Sam began to believe them.

And that's where Dean was now. He was roasting alive in the pits of Hell for being who he was, for being gay and worse, for loving Sam. No one else in the world could possibly understand what Sam was going though except Dean, and he was gone. 

His chest was as empty as his mind, and Sam soon turned to work to fill the void in his chest. Vampire covens disappeared overnight. Werewolves were slaughtered in packs. Even Demons screamed when Sam purged them from their unwilling hosts.

He was relentless, taking every ounce of his body and power to purge the evil from the earth. If he did enough, perhaps he could find a demon to take back Dean's contract. He had to run into someone higher up in the food chain sooner or later.

He became less cautious with the human vessels as he tortured the demons. Casualties happened more often than not, and he began to grow reckless as he cut a swath of crimson though the tides of Hell's minions. But in the end, he gained things, a purpose, a name of the creature who held Dean's contract, a crossroads Demon named Crowley. And he would stop at nothing to get Dean back.

All he needed now was some very rare and powerful ingredients. And a spell that had never successfully been attempted. But first he needed the bone of the fallen. Of Dean's. He couldn't tell Bobby, he wouldn't understand. So late one Tuesday night, he dug up his brother's grave with enough whiskey in him to make his breath catch flame. He broke open the latch of the casket with his borrowed shovel, and flung open the lid of the coffin.

It was empty.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 5 & 6 are so short but you got two chapters up in one day so hopefully that makes up for it.

Dean roasted helplessly on the rack for just under 30 years. He let Alastair tear and carve all of his sins away, day after day because he knew he deserved it. And when Alastair offered a break, a chance to do the carving instead of receiving it, he denied, every time. If anyone deserved the punishment he was receiving, it was Dean.

On Dean's fortieth year however, something changed. The screams were different, more frightened than ever before. But more than that, they were coming from the demons themselves, and not the punished souls.

Something had broken in Dean by that fortieth year, tainted his soul beyond repair. No longer was he suffering at the hands of Hell’s most powerful demon, no, he was the cause for the suffering. And he liked it. Liked feeling powerful for once in his life. Liked the fact that he wasn’t on the tormented end of abuse like he had been his entire human life. 

His soul was mutated, he could feel the last bits of himself, his human self, deteriorating under Alastairs guidance. 

Screams erupted in all facets of Hell as a blinding white light appeared overhead. Dean was suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of flying before he looked straight into blinding brightness.

"W-Where am I?" Dean asked, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the sudden and drastic change in light. "Who are you?"

"I am Castiel. I'm an angel of the lord." The voice rang, and Dean would be lying if it wasn't the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Beautiful and bullshit.

"Yeah, right. Because angels exhist now,” he scoffed, staring back into the amorphous celestial form. “Why are you here 'Castiel?' Is this another one of Alastair's tricks?"

"I've been sent to rescue you Dean," The angel replied softly, and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Why would an _angel_  rescue me from Hell huh?" 

"Good things _do_ happen Dean," The angel deadpanned.   

The laugh Dean let out was humorless and dark, “Not in my experience.” 

The angel was quiet for a moment, Dean imagined him tilting his head to the side like a dog, as if he was trying to figure out some impossible riddle.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked, before his eyes widened in realization. "You don't think you deserve to be saved." It wasn't a question.

Dean's jaw clenched hard. What could angels read minds now too? Screw this guy.

"Frankly? No. I mean, I'm in love with my brother, I've killed what, 300 people, at least? I've never done anything good in my life, so tell me, why me? Why do _I_ get to be saved?"

"Because God commanded it."

Castiel gripped Dean by the arm hard, and yanked him upwards. His grace began to burn Dean's soul and he heard the human cry out in pain. Up, up he pulled until they broke the surface, Dean's soul forced back into his lifeless body.

Castiel caressed his weak and damaged soul and healed the flesh with his grace. Once he was satisfied with his work, he returned to the sky to watch Dean dig himself out of the ground.

He had to leave his human to find a perminant physical form, but he left small traces of his grace with Dean, almost like a tracking device. Castiel would be able to track Dean wherever he went. It was his mission to keep this human alive, but most importantly to reunite him with his brother.

As a final parting, Castiel filled Dean's head with a message, one to get him back on track with his destiny.

 _Find your brother. The world is out of balance. You are designed for one another. Find Samuel_ , _entertwine your souls. Only then can you fully heal._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a reunion

Bobby's was the first stop on the welcome back tour. Dean wasn't sure if he was ready to see Sam again, even if the angel made it clear he needed to.

Bobby took the news well, after he had splashed Dean with holy water and tried to stab him with a silver knife that is...

Dean told Bobby about the Angel, Castiel, and tried to see if there was any way the creature was just a demon in disguise. After some of the shit they've seen, anything was possible at this point.

Bobby tried to convince Dean to call Sam, especially after he told him about the angels message. But calling Sam still didn't feel right. He had a feeling it would just end in blows, or worse.

Bobby had just finished pouring Dean a drink when a very familiar black, 67 Chevy Impala pulled into the driveway.

The two exchanged silent glances. Dean wanted so badly to beg Bobby to keep the door locked, to keep him from Sam just a little bit longer. But Bobby knew nothing of their fall out, of the hospital, of Dean's stupid drunken night, and he didn't plan on telling him.

"He's gonna find out sooner or later boy, might as well get the tearful reunion over with." Bobby tried for humor, but Dean was too nervous to do more than weakly smile.

Dean sat in the old worn chair, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle. What would Sam do when he saw Dean again? Would he be happy? Or pissed?

"Sam, come on in son." Dean heard Bobby say in the next room, and Dean swallowed down the last half of his beer in anticipation.

-*-

Dean didn't even have time to hold his hands up in surrender before Sam had him pinned to the wall, silver blade piercing the thin skin of his neck.

"WHAT ARE YOU!?" His brother bellowed, blind fury blazing behind his eyes. Dean tried to explain, but the pressure on the blade was making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

Thankfully, Bobby stepped in, yanking Sam's arms back and pulling him off Dean before he killed him again.

"Don't you think I would of tried that already?" Bobby shouted, trying to talk Sam off the ledge, "It's him Sam, it's _really_ him."

Dean rubbed his sore neck as he waited for his brother to piece it together. Sam's face paled.

"You're- no! H-How are you back in your body? You were dead Dean! I-I’m the one who found you, I _buried_ you!"

"Sammy, I-"

"N-No. Just because you didn't react to silver doesn't mean you aren't a monster. There are too many things out there, we could of missed one. Prove it. Say something only my Dean would know."

Dean sighed and stuffed his hands in his jacket. He knew exactly what to say, but it was harder to admit out loud, especially in front of Bobby.

"W-When I was a kid, I used to prostitute so I could afford cheap gas station burgers and a place to sleep after dad split. I also- have feelings for my brother. Ones that I shouldn't. And I have for a long time..."

The silence that followed was almost deafening. He was surprised Bobby didn't have a heart attack, or scream at him, or punch his lights out. That's what John would of done, Hell, John did do that. But Bobby wasn't John, Bobby knew when to butt out and when to offer help. Knowing this was one of those butt out situations, he excused himself, offering to cook something relatively edible while the two figured their shit out.

After his confession, Dean's eyes stayed glued to the ground. He wouldn't even mind if Sam tried to stab him again. He knew he would of had it coming.

But Sam didn't. In fact, he hugged him, unbearably tight.

"You still want that- me?” Sam whispered, “Even after going to Hell?"

Dean nodded. "Of course I do Sam."

The hug lasted a long time, probably bordering on too long. Dean cleared his throat to break some of the awkwardness.

"Listen, I'm happy in topside too, but we got bigger problems. First off, Angels exist. One of them, uh Castiel I think, rescued me from the pit. So, we gotta figure out why, because this whole thing stinks of divine intervention."

But Sam didn't let go. He hugged Dean even tighter, resting his face in Dean's neck. "I don't care about that. I don't care how, all I care is that you're safe."

"You seemed to have quite a different opinion a few months ago," Dean nearly growled, still hurt his brother would leave him in a place like that. He could honestly say it was worse than Hell.

He pulled himself from Sam's arms in a huff, taking his place back in the chair. He stole Bobby's beer and finished it off, nearly dropping the glass when a searing pain in his shoulder broke his concentration.

"Damn it!" He hissed, rolling up his sleeve and wincing when the raw flesh met rough material.

Sam was by his side instantly, offering help any way he could.

"Don't touch it. Hurts like a bitch." He hissed, yanking off his shirt to alleviate some pain. Across the skin of his bicep was a handprint, bright red and throbbing.

Sam winced. It was hand print, a human looking hand, but significantly smaller than his. He could feel heat radiating off of it without even touching it.

"Turn around, there might be something on your back too." Sam instructed.

Dean sighed and moved to face the doorway, feeling like a damn lab rat the entire time Sam examined him.

"You done?" He asked grumpily after Sam had been silent for almost 5 whole minutes.

Sam bit his lip. Dean's skin was littered with marks. Scars that looked decades old, stab wounds and burn marks that were so faint it was hardly noticeable anymore. He found a particularly long and gruesome one that started under Deans rib, winding down to the tip of his hip bone. He couldn't help but trace it with his fingertips.

"Dean... You didn't have these before..." He said slowly, _was this really his Dean?_

"I did. I just went to great lengths to keep them from you," Dean bit out, wanting his shirt back now more than ever. He shivered hard when Sam ran his hand down a particularly nasty scar. That one brought back bad memories...

Sam found another one, on the other side of Dean's back. It started right above his hip but disappeared into his jeans. Sam's throat knotted.

"Dean... How far down does it go?" He asked, running his fingers across the mark as if he could some how magically heal the scar.

"Stops right before my femoral artery." Dean said, remembering the hours of torture he endured while receiving that one. If the man had gotten to that point, it would of been all over for Dean.

"Who-"

"Client." Was all Dean said before he pulled away from Sam's touch. He immediately reached for his shirt and yanked it over his head. As if covering the scars would some how erase the memories.

'Jack' was the last client Dean ever saw. Somehow risking his life for a few hundred bucks didn't seem worth it anymore. Especially if it meant he could never see Sammy again.

The guy was a raging psychopath, and if the 26 hours locked in that freaks basement taught him anything, it was that Dean was hardly his first victim, though Dean made sure he was his last.

Dean had a strong rule about not killing humans, but that guy, he was a monster who had everything coming to him.

Sam had remained silent, likely trying to process everything. When he couldn't bare the silence anymore, Dean stormed off for the bathroom.

"Whatever. Good talk."

He desperately needed a shower, and maybe about five more drinks.

* * *

The hot water on Dean's skin felt amazing. It was interesting how much you miss the little things when you've been away for so long. The hot steam felt almost purifying, as if it was absorbing away the memories of Hell in tiny droplets.

He was about to turn off the faucet when a burning sensation radiated from his shoulder to his wrist, crumpling him to the ground. The handprint on his arm _throbbed_ and his ears were filled with a high pitched ringing before the Angels voice burst through his mind.

_Dean. Find Sam. The world is out of balance._

"Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time." He growled, gripping his arm tight as if that would take the pain away.

_Reconnect with him. Do not push him away._

"Hey I tried! He doesn't want anything to do with me!"

_Dean-_

There was a loud, interrupting knock at the door, followed by Bobby's worried voice.

"Dean? Who are you talking to?"

The pain vanished as quickly as it started and the Angels voice was gone. Dean wiped a hand down his face.

"No one Bobby. I'll be out in a second."

* * *

Sam set the table, his hands shaking. Dean was here. He was really here. Tears began to fill his eyes. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and heard Bobby's comforting voice.

"He's real son. Real as you and me." Sam nodded though the tears and looked up as Dean walked in.

"Dean..." Sam said, his voice thick as he tried to wipe his eyes. "I uh-" he stated and burst into tears again as he hugged Dean tightly. "I missed you so much." he cried and clutched onto his brother.

Dean was a little surprised by the second hug, but he took it. It had been so long since he felt a humans touch, especially Sam's.

"I missed you too." He said, clearing his throat before the tears took over. "But I'm back now, so no more worrying ok? Let’s eat.”

The three ate in almost complete silence. It was weird being back, and even more awkward now that Bobby knew everything. At least he didn't _seem_ mad.

Dean drank more than he ate, and when dinner was finally done, he felt pleasantly buzzed.

"I think uh, I think I'm gonna hit the sack. I feel like I haven't slept in 40 years. Bobby, is it cool if I stay in your guest room?"

"Course son."

Dean nodded once before heading to the other bedroom, snagging a beer on his way out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About fucking time right?

Dean was just about to succumb to sleep when he heard a quiet knocking on his door. He really didn't want to move, and the alcohol was doing a great job of numbing his body out and quieting his mind, making moving even less attractive.

"Dean?" Sam whispered through the door.

 _Great_ , Dean thought. It _would_ be Sam. Not like he could really say no there.

"Yeah, give me a minute." He said, yanking himself up from bed and heading to the door.

Sam waited tensely at the door. He almost felt like pacing, just to distract himself. He was so sure Dean was _gone_ again every time he left his sight.

Relief washed over him as Dean opened the door, and Sam smiled tearfully in the doorway.

"Can I come in? Please?" Dean didn’t move from the doorway.

"What do you want Sam?" He asked tiredly, wishing more than anything his brother would just go away.

"I think we need to talk..."

"I got nothing to say to you Sam." Dean replied curtly. He really didn't. Not after the hospital fiasco.

"Please?" Sam sniffled, giving him that damn puppy dog, tear filled gaze. Dean felt his heart clench tightly in his chest. _Damn it._

"Fine." He agreed gruffly, moving to let Sam in before locking the door behind them.

Dean returned to his place on the bed, waiting for the unwanted conversation to inevitably start. He nearly forgot he was shirtless, until Sam's piercing and judging eyes so kindly reminded him.

"I'll put on a shirt."

"Don't-" Sam said and blushed. Weird. "I mean, you don't have to. It's only me."

Dean wasn't sure how to take that reaction, but he ignored it for now. They had more important things to focus on.

"You can have a seat Sam."

Sam sat down and let out a huge sigh. His stomach was in knots and he felt his skin grow clammy. He had to ask. He had to ask why Dean went to Hell. He feared the answer and the consequences even more so.

"Dean?" He asked, voice shaking. "Dean did you really go to Hell, because you wanted me? Because you're gay?" He asked, his voice breaking.

_What!?_

"What- no, Sam! I went to hell because I made a deal. Because I needed you _alive_ and with me. Because I'm selfish and can't handle shit by myself. That's why I went to Hell."

Dean said, unsure of the turn this conversation had taken. "Is that what's freaking you out? You do know gay people don't go to Hell right? That the Bible gets more wrong than it ever does right? It was written by a bunch of dicks hundreds of years ago! The only people that go to Hell are the ones who deserve it. The people who murder for fun, hurt kids, or make deals."

"That's not what Pastor Rick said," Sam said, his voice thick with tears. "He told- he told me that every day for eight months Dean. Him and the other priests and nuns-" he said and began to choke. "When dad sent me away- I wasn't at school, he sent me to a - a conversion camp-"

Dean nearly flew off the bed he sat up so fast. "Whoa whoa, slow down Sam," He said, scooting close to his brother and touching his shoulder gently. "Sam- what did dad do?"

Dean's voice was hard, and his hands were clenched into fists. If their dad wasn't already dead, he'd kill him himself.

"Sammy, please. You can tell me everything ok?"

Sam sniffled and nodded, not knowing how badly he needed the physical comfort from Dean until just now. God did he miss him.

"R-Remeber when I was 15, you and dad were out stalking that vampire coven for a week? I-I missed you so much, I stole your jacket. You know the one you bought as a birthday present?"

"Yeah Sammy, I remember." Dean said softly, rubbing Sam's arm so he'd continue.

"Well, sometimes, I’d sleep by your jacket, just for the touch, and the scent of you. I was so lonely without you Dean, and when I imagined you holding me, telling me everything would be ok and you'd be home soon..."

Dean had an idea where this story was going, but didn't have the heart to interrupt.

"When you guys came back, Dad saw me  
curled up in your jacket... He- he caught me _thinking_ about you..."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. Sam must of taken it as disgust because he burst into hiccuping sobs.

"He sent me to Pastor Ricks the same day, he wouldn't even let me say goodbye! He told you he sent me to a boarding school, but he sent me to a farm, Dean- oh god they were so horrible-"

"Hey, hey shh it's alright." Dean soothed, gathering Sam into his arms and holding him tight, rocking him gently while Sam cried.

His gut twisted in disgust. He searched his memory bank for Pastor Ricks address, and if he was still alive, it wouldn't be for long.

It was a long time before Sam stopped crying. Dean stayed silent for most of it, other than offering words of support. When Sam finally seemed to calm, Dean spoke again.

"Damn it Sammy. You know I would of broken you out of there right? If I had known? I'm so sorry you had to endure so much pain because of me. I only ever wanted to keep you safe, I never should of believed dad. But I wanted so badly for you to be happy, you loved that damn school. You had friends, awesome grades, if anyone could make it out of the life it was you. Even if it meant I couldn't have you, I just wanted you happy Sammy... I'm- I'm sorry for kissing you. I understand why it freaked you out now. Fuck, I'm so sorry."

Sam peeked out from Dean's chest, reaching for his brother's hand.

"You didn't know. Please don't apologize." He said softly, calming down a little.

"Yeah well, I still shouldn't of done it." Dean hugged Sam tight, rubbing his back gently like he used to do when they were little. "Do you want to sleep in here tonight? You're too tall for Bobby's couch."

"Yeah, thanks." Sam nodded tiredly, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. It would be nice to be by Dean tonight, just to confirm that he really was back.

Sam frowned when Dean pulled away. He assumed he was just going to grab another pillow for Sam but instead he walked to the door, hand on the lock.

"Dean? Where are you going?" He asked quietly.

"You said you wanted to sleep in here," Dean said, confused look on his face.

"Yeah, _with_ you." 

"Oh," Dean looked down and flushed red, and Sam would be lying if it didn't warm his heart.

"Yeah, we can share a bed for the night. It's not like we haven't before right?" Sam said, treading water slowly. They were both too emotionally raw to face the reality of their situation just yet.

"You uh, you sure you don't want me to put on a shirt?" Dean offered again, obviously still self conscious about his scars, especially the newest one.

"They don't bother me if they don't bother you." Sam said kindly, moving over to one side of the bed to make room for Dean.

Dean slid in next to him, offering his chest for Sam to lay against, much like they used to when they were little, and Sam took it, reveling in the safety net of familiarity.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am probably the worst person in the world for making you guys wait so long. To be fully honest, I totally forgot I hadn't posted the last chapter. I made it extra long and threw in some sex for you guys. I hope you enjoyed it, sorry about all the angst.

Sam awoke with his arm around Dean, his head nuzzled into his chest. He stretched and let out a satisfied sigh, it was delightfully warm here, and it made him want to stay like this forever.

Dean startled a bit when Sam woke up, but easily relaxed when he saw there was no immediate danger. Their position could border on intimate, but Dean didn't really mind. He just hoped it wouldn't bug Sam too much.

"You awake?" Sam murmured, his voice muffled by Dean's peck. 

"Yeah, how'd you sleep?" He asked, hoping the casual conversation would distract from the way they were laying.

"Good- not long enough-" he said with a yawn. He stretched like a cat and curled up around Dean.

"Yeah I feel you there. Nightmares are a bitch." 

Sam frowned but didn't say anything. He knew it wasn't something Dean wouldn’t be ready to talk about yet. He attempted to change the subject instead.

"God you're so warm," He purred happily, resting his hand on Dean's tummy, "Do we have to do anything today? Can we just lay in bed all day?"

Dean was a little uneasy when Sam cuddled close, but he hugged Sam protectively nonetheless. "It's my first day back on Earth, and while I'm itching to get back out there, I'd rather stay in bed."

Sam smiled happily and began to drag his fingers across Dean's taught skin in random doodles.

"I've been having a horrible time sleeping lately. I realized, after you were gone, it was your breathing I missed."

"Thought you said I snore," Dean teased, hint of a smile forming at the edge of his mouth. "Well, you're always welcome to lay by me, if you're comfortable with it that is."

"I'm pretty comfy here," He said, wrapping one very long leg around Dean's. In their current position, it wouldn't be much longer until Sam was literally on top of Dean, but he didn't mind. Not anymore at least.

"Dean?" He asked nervously, almost stuttering when Dean replied back with a "hmm?"

"Can- can I kiss you?" He asked softly, hands almost shaking at such a simple request.

"I-I don't know if that's a good idea Sam..."

"I do," Sam said with more confidence, "Please?"

Dean swallowed hard and looked at Sam's face for any sign of insincerity. He found none, though that didn't make it right. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Sam..."

Sam felt his heart crumble in his chest and the beginnings of tears form in the corner of his eyes. "Dean- Why? Why don't you want this?" He asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

"That's not the problem Sam..." Dean groaned, letting go of Sam to rub his eyes.

"THEN WHAT IS!?"

Dean could hear the anger in Sam's voice, and it killed him. He never wanted to hurt Sam, that's why he couldn't. Along with about fifteen thousand other reasons.

"The point is you don't Sam. Not really."

Sam pulled away and sat straight up, looking down at his brother firmly. "I didn't sleep in here as a joke Dean. I _want_ you. You're all I have left. I love you- I told you yesterday, that I have since I was 10."

That infuriated Dean for some reason, and it had him sitting straight up as well.

"So what, suddenly you've had a change of heart and I'm just supposed to _pretend_ the hospital didn't happen? Sam, I don't need you faking feelings for me to relieve your own guilt. You locked me away, even after everything I've done for you! I went to Hell for you Sam! So don't try and bullshit me!"

Sam winced at the harsh tone, and the reminder of what he had done.

"I-I didn't know what else to do at the time. Dad did it to me. The hospital was to help you though therapy. Because we know Hell is real, and I didn't want you to go there, not because of me..."

It sounded stupid even to his own ears, intentions pure or not, it was a shitty thing to do to someone you loved. Someone you were in love with. He looked down guiltily at his hands.

“I thought at the time, that I was helping you Dean. And... And I thought it could help with that and...your drinking problem."

"A drinking problem? Riiight. Because I've got that going on now too. Let me ask you something Sam, have you ever actually sat down and wondered _why_ I drink? Could it be because I've had to sit on the secret of loving my brother for over 10 _years_? Or maybe because of the shit I had to go through just to survive after you _and_ dad split on me? Or what about the stress of trying to keep our family together after mom died? No, you haven't. Because you only care about bitching about the things I do so you can make yourself feel superior!”

"I don't think I'm better than anyone Dean!"

Sam was standing now, his fists clenched at his side and shaking. "But you're wrong. I _understand_ the pain of loving somone I shouldn't! I might not drink, but I bury myself in work, because if I stop and actually let my mind relax, all that crap with dad comes flooding back. I have permanent nerve damage in my hips and back from the cane beatings I got from the priests. Did you know that? It's why I have to sleep on my stomach. They even broke one of my hip bones after I tried to escape. And when I had to go back to dad? He kept it up. That's why I had to leave Dean. He was literally going to kill me! All I wanted was to get a good job and save up enough so you could live with me and be free of dad!

Dean's eyes were wet now though you wouldn't be able to tell if you looked at him. His fingers were pinched on either side of his nose and his head was tilted down. He could feel the beginning signs of a migraine coming on, but that was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

"Why are we fighting Sam?" He asked, voice cracking as he said it. "We’re all we have left. You, me, and Bobby, and we're spending our time fighting over whose had it worse?"

"All I wanted was a kiss Dean," Sam reminded him and Dean almost growled.

"Damn it Sam," Dean snapped, pulling himself out of bed and crossing the distance between him and Sam in four steps before crushing their lips together.

It probably wasn't the most romantic of kisses, it was sloppy and there was definitely teeth involved, but Dean needed Sam to understand.

Sam was melting under Dean's lips. His body was on fire from his brothers kiss and he clutched onto Dean with everything he had.

"Dean-" he whimpered and kissed him back, hard and full of passion and longing. He wanted to be connected to his brother in every possible way. He begged for more.

Dean lifted Sam up effortlessly, which was surprising given Sam's obvious height advantage. But Dean had always been strong, years of hunting helped with that. He carried his brother to his bed, never once disconnecting their lips. He dropped Sam on his back, crawling between his brothers legs to continue the kiss just under his earlobe.

Sam shook his head away and began to laugh. "Dean that tickles!" He giggled and tried to play wrestle his brother off.

"I know, that's why I did it," Dean smirked, continuing his assault down Sam's neck with his lips. "I've always been stronger than you Sam, I don't know why you are trying." He teased Sam further by pinning Sam's wrists down effortlessly.

Sam bucked his hips up and found enough leverage to push Dean onto his side. Sam grabbed his legs with his own, and smiled triumphantly at his Judo hold.

"Ok, that's not fair." Dean whined, struggling in his brother's grasp. "You used your freakishly long legs as leverage. I call foul."

Sam chuckled and kissed Dean's forhead. "You like it," He teased and wiggled his arms around Dean, engulfing him in a behind hug before returning his lips to their rightful place.

"More than you know," Dean groaned, hardening considerably fast in the time since Sam had him pinned.

Sam kissed his neck. "God you're so warm. It's making me sleepy-" he said and yawned as he snuggled next to Dean.

Dean groaned loudly in impatience, "You would get tired right as I got hard."

Sam blushed. "You-" he said and looked down. "Oh I'm sorry- did you want a moment alone?" He asked and then feeling braver asked, "Do you want _me_ to take care of it?"

"Fuck, Yes." Dean didn't even try to hesitate this time. He was too far gone for that.

Sam began to kiss down his brother's hip bones and gently pulled down his boxers. Before he lost his nerve, he palmed the thick muscle in his hand and gently began to kiss the very top.

"Fuck! Damn it Sammy," Dean groaned, his voice tight from pleasure. "I don't know how far you wanna take this tonight Sam, but I'm ok with anything." He was secretly hoping it would end in sex, but he didn't bet on it. They just made up after all, but make up sex _was_ the best type of sex.

Sam stroked Dean with his hand, and opened his mouth, taking just the tip inside. He swirled warm saliva over Dean's head, lubricating it and teasing his brother.

Dean whined when Sam took him in his mouth. Dean hadn't been touched in, shit a year? Forty one if you count Hell time. But mostly, this was because of _Sam_ , the one person he'd ever actually wanted. Sam would never be a one night stand in his mind. He was too damn important to be tossed aside like that.

Sam's mouth swallowed him down a few more times before he came up for air. Dean had to physically restrain himself from pushing Sam back down on his cock.

"I want you to take me," Sam said, taking likely the both of them, by surprise.

Dean's mind sobered at that, but shook his head.

"No Sam, I can't wait that long. Besides, you've never done it before, I’d need to stretch you first. Fuck me, and next time we'll go slow, I'll take great care of you Sammy."

Sam did want Dean to fuck him, but he had valid points. He didn't feel like arguing anymore today. Instead he gave Dean a nod and tried to remember if his duffle had condoms or not. He gave Dean a kiss before running to check, and thanked whoever was up there watching that he had lube too.

He rolled the condom on quickly and applied a generous amount to his dick as well as his fingers before placing one inside Dean. His brother arched beautifully for him.

"Don't need prep Sammy, I can take it," Dean begged and despite Sam's better judgement, he believed him, lining up and sinking in in one thrust.

Dean's back arched hard and he let out a groan like nothing Sam's ever heard before. He could feel Dean clenching around him in efforts to adjust to the size but it just drove Sam wilder. He gripped each side of Dean's hips and rocked forward, gaining another shout that sounded very similar to a scream.

  
Dean held onto Sam's back like a lifeline, rocking upwards as best he could while Sam nearly pummeled into him, hitting his prostate with every thrust. He knew it wouldn't be long before he came if they kept up this rate.

He kept his mind focused on getting Sam to come first. He made sure with every thrust in, he would clench around Sam, causing his brother to choke on his gasps. Each time Sam's thrusts got harder and more erratic, it wouldn't be long now.

With a half dozen more thrusts, Sam was coming with a shout, emptying himself into the plastic and crushing their lips together in a harsh, hot kiss.

Sam began to soften inside Dean, but he didn't stop. Sam took Deans cock and began to pump it, never breaking the contact between their mouths. It wasn't much longer until Dean was coming, shuddering almost silently against Sam's body as he came down from his high.

Even after orgasm, Dean didn't make any efforts to stop. He continued his assault on Sam's lips until Sam finally pushed him back.

"Let me at least throw this away and then you can attack me some more," he joked, tying off the condom and tossing it in the nearest trash can.

When he came back, Dean was passed out. Sam couldn't help but chuckle as he turned back towards the bathroom for a towel.

With each of them cleaned up to the best of Sam's ability, Sam took his spot right next to a softly snoring Dean. He pulled his peaceful sleeping brother as close as he could without waking him, content to take a nap himself. As Sam began to drift into his own slumber, he could of sworn he heard a voice, a soft whisper say, 

_"Finally. The world is back in balance."_


End file.
